Disobeying Ezekiel ( A Forbidden Romance)

2. A jealous Ezekiel

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself increasingly drawn into the web of intrigue that surrounded Zeke and my father. Their bond was a complex one, built on years of shared experiences and secrets that were hinted at but never fully revealed. Zeke was far younger than my father, but there was a depth to him that suggested a life lived on the edge. He was older than me by several years, a fact that added to his allure and the forbidden nature of our connection.

My father had always been a man of few words, his stern demeanor and authoritative presence commanding respect and sometimes fear. He rarely spoke about his work, but I knew it was dangerous—an unspoken understanding that hung in the air like a dark cloud. My father and Zeke were part of a world where the stakes were high, and the consequences of failure were severe. They were dangerous men, and it was this danger that both fascinated and terrified me.

Zeke had entered my father's life a few years back, quickly becoming a trusted ally and confidant. Despite the difference in their ages, they shared a mutual respect and an unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of perilous undertakings. My father often spoke of Zeke with a mix of admiration and a hint of protective caution, aware of the magnetic pull his younger friend had on those around him.

One evening, as Zeke and my father sat in the dimly lit study discussing matters I could only guess at, I lingered in the hallway, eavesdropping on their conversation. Their voices were low, their words cryptic, but it was clear that they were involved in something significant, something that required a level of secrecy and trust that few could comprehend.

"You've got to be careful, Ezekiel," my father said, his tone grave. "The stakes are higher than ever. One wrong move and it could all come crashing down."

Zeke responded with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "I know what I'm doing. We've come this far, haven't we?"

"Just remember," my father replied, his voice softening slightly, "you're not invincible. None of us are."

I held my breath, straining to hear more, but their conversation shifted to a whisper, leaving me with only fragments of their dangerous world.

The next day, Zeke found me in the garden again, his presence as commanding as ever. "Eavesdropping, are we?" he asked, his voice a teasing murmur.

I flushed, caught off guard. "I—no, I was just passing by."

He laughed softly, stepping closer. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing, remember?"

"I can't help it," I admitted, meeting his gaze with a mix of curiosity and defiance. "There's so much I don't know. About you, about my father, about... everything."

Zeke's playful demeanor faded, replaced by a seriousness that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, darkened with a warning. "Listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense. "You need to stay away from that part of our world."

I was taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. "But—"

"No," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "You don't understand the danger you're courting."

I could see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders, and it dawned on me just how grave he was. "Zeke," I began, trying to keep my voice steady.

For the first time, he used my name, and it was like a jolt to my system. "This isn't a game, Delilah," he said, his eyes piercing into mine. "The things we do, the risks we take—it's not something you can just dip your toes into. It's life and death."

I saw it then, the man my father had warned me about. The man who was feared. There was a hardness in his gaze, a steeliness that spoke of a past filled with peril and decisions made in the shadows. The playful Zeke who teased and flirted was gone, replaced by someone far more formidable.

"But I want to understand," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I want to be a part of it."

His expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something akin to regret crossing his features. "You think you do," he said quietly. "But trust me, you don't. This life, it's not something you can just walk away from once you're in."

I swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and fascination. "Then why are you still here? Why do you keep coming around?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare sign of frustration. "Because despite everything, I can't seem to stay away from you," he admitted, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "But that doesn't mean I want you dragged into this mess."

I took a step closer, my resolve hardening. "I'm not afraid, Zeke. Not of you, not of the danger."

He looked at me for a long moment, the weight of his gaze making it hard to breathe. "You should be," Zeke said, his voice a haunting whisper that seemed to hang in the air. The intensity in his eyes formed a knot of both excitement and fear inside me, a whirlwind of emotions that left me breathless.

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Then, suddenly, his phone rang, shattering the tension between us. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor shifted. The playful, teasing Zeke vanished, replaced by someone cold and dangerous.

He answered the call, his voice switching effortlessly to German. "Ja, was ist los?" he said, his tone clipped and businesslike. As he listened, his expression became increasingly stoic, his body language taut with focus and a hint of menace. The conversation continued, his responses terse and efficient, each word laced with an undercurrent of authority and control.

I watched, transfixed, as the transformation took place before my eyes. This was the man my father had warned me about, the man who moved in shadows and dealt with threats I could only imagine. The contrast between the Zeke I had come to know and this dangerous figure was stark and startling.

Finally, the call ended. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to face me, the cold intensity still lingering in his eyes. "Stay away from this," he warned, his voice hard and unyielding. "Whatever curiosity you have, let it go. This is not a world you want to be part of."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, his gaze holding mine with a fierce determination. "This isn't a game, Delilah. People get hurt. Worse. You need to trust me on this."

The gravity of his words sank in, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Despite the fear, there was also a thrill, a dark allure that made my pulse race. But I nodded, understanding that he was serious, that this was not something to take lightly.

He gave me one last, lingering look, a mixture of regret and resolve in his eyes. "Stay safe," he said softly, almost to himself, before turning on his heel and walking away.

That was the last time I saw Zeke for a while. He disappeared as abruptly as he had entered my life, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions. Weeks turned into months with no word from him or about him. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, taking the danger and excitement with him. The same way he had come into my life was the same way he left—suddenly and without warning.

One night, after months of silence, I decided to go clubbing with my friends. A new club had opened in town, and we were eager to check it out. The night was filled with laughter, loud music, and the promise of forgetting about the mysteries and dangers of the past.

The club was buzzing with energy, lights flashing in time with the pounding bass. My friends and I danced, losing ourselves in the rhythm and the anonymity of the crowded dance floor. For a moment, I felt free, unburdened by the shadows of my recent past.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Zeke, entering the club with a group of equally dangerous-looking men looking like a dark god amidst the neon lights. His hair was tousled in that effortlessly sexy way, the dark strands falling across his forehead. He wore a fitted black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, the fabric stretching over his well-defined chest and shoulders. The sleeves of his jacket were pushed up to reveal the intricate tattoos that adorned his forearms—each one a testament to his wild and dangerous side. The ink seemed to dance over his muscles, adding to his already magnetic presence.

They moved with a confidence and purpose that set them apart from the rest of the crowd. But beside Zeke was a girl, strikingly beautiful and clinging to his arm.

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of shock and an unexpected pang of jealousy surging through me. He hadn't noticed me yet, his attention focused on the girl at his side and the men around him. They made their way to a VIP section, the crowd parting for them as if sensing their dangerous aura.

I stood frozen, my mind racing. Seeing Zeke again, here of all places, brought back all the feelings I had tried to bury. The excitement, the fear, the undeniable attraction. But now, there was a new element—hurt. The way he seemed so comfortable with the girl, the way she clung to him, it felt like a slap in the face.

"Are you okay?" one of my friends asked, noticing my sudden distraction.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile. My friends had no idea about Zeke. He was a secret I had kept close to my heart, a part of my life they couldn't understand.

As the night went on, I felt Zeke's eyes on me, watching my every move. He had spotted me in the crowd, and there was no mistaking the intensity of his gaze. He was taking me in, making sure I knew he was there. Yet, he kept his distance, a silent reminder of the dangerous game we were playing.

The woman with him kept vying for his attention, touching him in ways that made my blood boil. Her hands on his arm, her body pressed against his—every touch felt like a violation. That was my place, my right, and seeing her with him stoked a fire of jealousy and anger inside me.

I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he wanted to play games, I could play too. Turning to my friends, I plastered on a carefree smile and led them back to the dance floor. The music pulsed through me, and I let the rhythm take over, moving my body with a deliberate sensuality, knowing Zeke was watching.

As I danced, I caught glimpses of him over my shoulder. His eyes never left me, dark and possessive. The woman at his side continued her attempts to pull his attention back to her, but it was clear his focus was on me. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and defiance.

I danced closer to one of the guys in our group, a friend who had always had a harmless crush on me. I let him put his hands on my waist, leaning into him just enough to make it look convincing. The entire time, I felt Zeke's eyes burning into me, a silent challenge that I was more than willing to accept.

The guy leaned in, trying to talk over the music. "You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Never better," I replied, glancing toward the VIP section where Zeke sat. I met his gaze head-on, a silent dare in my eyes. His jaw tightened, and I knew he was feeling the sting of jealousy just as I had moments before.

The game was on, and I reveled in the power I had over him in that moment. I knew he was furious, but he remained in the VIP section, watching with a predatory intensity that both thrilled and terrified me. The woman beside him continued to cling to him, her attempts to garner his attention growing more desperate.

I turned my back to him, focusing on the dance and the beat of the music. I could feel the tension in the air, the electric charge of our unspoken confrontation. The night was far from over, and the dangerous game we had started was reaching a new, more perilous level.